


Unexpexted

by lucy_in_the_sky



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, Low key mentioning suicidal thoughts but blink and you miss it, Panic, Panic Attack, Sra Guadalupe is not nice to Evan, but not the disco type, connor is kinda ooc here, or something, they're freshmen or sophomores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_in_the_sky/pseuds/lucy_in_the_sky
Summary: Evan gets a panic attack during Spanish class but an unexpected classmate helps him through it.(I literally suck at summaries sorry basically Evan freaks out during Spanish is someone (duh, Connor) helps him).





	Unexpexted

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so this is basically based off of what happened to me in Spanish class so I thought why the hell not and wrote this in like an hour. This is my first Dear Evan Hansen fanfic but I love love love the musical. Feedback is always appreciated:) Enjoy!

Evan did not consider himself an inherently mean person. Thanks to his anxiety, he basically thought everything was his fault which caused a lot of self loathing, but didn't make him a mean guy. He was nice to his mom for putting up with him, never said anything but kind, albeit awkward, compliments when he was spoken to etcetera etcetera. But right now, right at this very moment, Evan hated his Spanish teacher. In fact, he wished she had never passed any of her final exams in college so she couldn't have gotten a degree and couldn't have been hired by his high school to teach Spanish 2 to a bunch of teenagers (and he didn't even feel guilty for thinking this). Señora Guadalupe was usually lax in the quantity of group projects she assigned, but chose today to make her class write five minute group presentations about when to use "por" and when when to use "para". To make matters worse, she said the groups needed to have them done in twenty minutes so they could present that class. Señora Guadalupe put them into pairs making it impossible for Evan to just say he didn't know it was a group assignment and do it by himself. He guessed that this way at least he wouldn't have to present by himself. That is if he actually made it through these twenty minutes without passing out or worse, dying. Come to think of it, he wouldn't mind dying that much, but he's pretty sure his mom would be devastated and Evan just couldn't do that to her. But passing out would just be embarrassing. 

'I guess I don't really have a choice though, do I?'

Evan asked himself as his breathing got progressively faster and shorter with an oncoming panic attack. His hands started to shake minutely, and he could feel blood rushing to his face, making him look like he was trying to impersonate a tomato. 

He could see out of his periphery that whoever Señora Guadalupe paired him with had taken a seat in the desk next to his, dumping their binders on top of the cheap, plastic desk. The person didn't seem to notice that Evan was literally bright red and wheezing like he had asthma and had just ran several miles. Although he's not sure why someone with asthma would run several miles in the first place, but right now the logic part of brain was worried about other things. 

Evan managed to glance up at his partner just enough to see that it was none other than Connor Murphy. The Connor Murphy. The Connor Murphy who had pushed him to the ground a couple weeks prior. The Connor Murphy who had called him a freak. The Connor Murphy with a reputation of skipping school to do drugs and tormenting small children in his free time. (Well, Evan wasn't quite sure about the last one, but it honestly didn't seem to far if a reach to him). 

Connor was creating a new Google doc to outline their presentation when he looked over at Evan. At this point, Evan didn't even realize he had been staring at Connor while he thought those terrible things about him. 

'Oh god, he can read minds can't he? Now Connor is gonna hate me and think I'm even more of a freak than he already thought and he's gonna beat me up after class and I'm gonna have to go home with a broken nose and bloody clothes and Mom's gonna be so disappointed that she'll leave and I'll be left alone to die a slow death on the streets as-'

He didn't get to finish his self deprecating scenario before he felt a hand on his shoulder. His brain was momentarily more focused on being touched without his knowledge than creating a scenario where everything goes to shit and Evan jumped back into focus, gaping at Connor. 

"Woah there, you okay," 

Connor said in a surprisingly soothing voice. Unfortunately, all Evan could do was stare at him as Connor looked progressively more worried. 

"I'll, uh, take that as a no," 

It kind of sounded like a question. 

Connor slid his desk closer to Evan's and tried to get the panicking boy to look him in the eye. 

"It's okay, I promise I won't hurt you,"

Evan looked up (was he even looking at the ground? When did that happen?) and he might have imagined it in his hazy and panicked mind, but Connor seemed to be a little bit pleased as he did. 

"Okay, so I don't really know how to help but can you maybe just focus on breathing for a hot second?" 

Evan tried to take in Conor's words and attempted to breathe. That resulted in him gasping for air like a drowning man as Connor's expression started to get less worried. His breaths eventually evened out (sort of) and he was able to talk again. Well, Evan-talk which is basically stuttering and lots of "uhm”’s and “sorry”’s . 

"Uhm th-thanks, Connor," 

He managed to sputter out. 

Connor looked better now that Evan could function like a (somewhat) normal human being, and leaned back in his chair. 

"Yeah, I just didn't want to do this project by myself, so," 

Connor shrugged dejectedly. 

The rest of the twenty minutes (there were eleven now because Evan's brain decided it couldn't be a normal brain today, or like, ever) were relatively easier but that doesn't mean they were easy. The pit in Evan's stomach seemed to grow as the seconds ticked by, nearing the time that he and Connor would need to present. When the time had eventually passed, Evan started breathing heavily again, because, anxiety. 

Connor seemed to pick up on the fact that it wasn't really him causing the poor boy's panic, but the prospect of speaking in front of the class. He turned to Evan with the nicest expression Evan had ever seen in that boy's face (not nice necessarily, but he looked less like he wanted to punch someone than he normally did). 

"It's chill if you want me to introduce our slide and say most of it, I don't really, uh, mind," 

He rubbed his neck awkwardly as he said this. 

"Really? Y-you don't, like, have to b-but thanks anyways uhm yeah you can, like, probably already uhm tell b-but I have bad anxiety a-and I'm sorry I just don't really, like, like to talk in front of people or or at all-"

Connor cut him off before he could ramble any further. 

"Hansen, chill, it's fine. I already said I could talk for us." 

"R-right, sorry," 

"Like I said, it's fine," 

Evan could tell Connor was getting mildly annoyed by his awkwardness. 

"I'm uhm, s-" 

"If you say sorry one more time-"

He seemed to stop and think better of threatening Evan, something very uncommon for the teenager who was basically the textbook definition of anger management issues. 

It turns out Evan was too shocked by Connor acting so out of character to excessively freak out about standing in front of the class while Connor droned about recipients of actions or something. 

By the time Evan sat back down, he felt no trace of the prior anxiety attack (of course he still felt anxious because one nice encounter with a student can't cure his messed up brain, duh) and was able to properly thank Connor for being so. . .nice.

"Uhm look, I know you d-didn't have to do that so uhm thank you,"

He swore he saw the faintest hint of a smile on the tough guy's face. 

"Like I said, I'm just bad at Spanish and needed you to do most of the work, presenting is the easy part," 

"Right,"

For some reason, a small voice his head was telling him not to believe what the boy was saying. But not for the normal reasons that voice told him to ignore the words of his peers. For, like, a good reason. 

He left Spanish class with a smile on his face, it was pretty small, but it was there and that's what mattered, he guessed. 

'Dear Evan Hansen,  
Today is gonna be a good day and here's why. . .'


End file.
